All in on You

Chapter Nine

I'm not worried about the amount that Angelo drank, because he nursed one glass of dark liquor the entire night and is a big body.

What I am worried about, is the fifteen-minute drive back to my condo.

As tall as I am, my legs are shorter than Angelo's, and I know it takes restraint on his part for our steps to fall in line the way they are right now as we exit the hotel The Louis is located in.

The ride down in the elevator wasn't awkward, because we were joined by an older, well-dressed couple who smiled kindly at us and murmured about how they 'used to be young and in love.' I told them, "Well, I guess you're not in love anymore either." Nobody but Angelo laughed.

Okay, so it was a little awkward.

Now it's just the two of us, alone together amongst several other citizens going their own way on this dark, downtown Toronto street.

"This way, I'm parked in the garage out back."

The wind is whipping so violently that I can barely make out what Angelo says. I know my voice won't carry against the howling, so I just nod.

Maybe it's because it's downtown, maybe it's because it's dark, or maybe it's because he wants to, but no matter the reason, Angelo's right arm wraps around my body, shielding me but barely touching my jacket.

When I notice his arm, I look up at his face. He's serious. And seriously attractive. I can just make out the way his dark curls escape from the back and sides of his toque.

"You know, I'm pretty sure that all phones nowadays have a camera, if you want to take a picture."

Ha ha.

"If I took one, would you sign it for me?"

"I may even leave my phone number."

Hie eyes dance with mirth and his tongue pokes out from the corner of his lips.

I know I'm just as guilty as he is, but the flirting has to stop. And that's exactly what I'm going to tell him once I'm inside his...

Range Rover. Angelo drives a black Range Rover, because of course he does.

We're inside the parking garage now, near his luxury vehicle. He unlocks it and opens my door before jogging around to the driver's side.

I certainly don't consider myself to be a car enthusiast, but I've never been in a car this fancy before and it's nice. It's clean and spacious and the leather smells like Angelo.

We're quiet as Angelo tinkers with the heating.

"Music or no music?"

"You decide, it's your car."

Angelo hesitates for a moment before saying, "Music it is."

Drake's Passionfruit fills the vehicle at a low volume. I'm not a huge Drake fan, but this is a sick beat for a drive on a dark winter evening.

Other than Angelo asking me for my address, we're quiet as he pulls out of the garage and hits Bay Street's traffic.

I'm steeling myself to say what needs to be said. That as grateful as I am for the ride, it's dangerous for us to be together like this. Because I have a crush on him and I shouldn't, and being alone and close to him like this only gives me more opportunities for my resolve to crumble.

"I—"

"Can—"

We stop speaking at the same time.

"You go first," I insist. Please.

Angelo nods and keeps his head forward, eyes directly ahead.